


Into The Nothing

by Cuthwyn



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, M/M, Perscribed drug abuse, Supernatural Elements, past Jay/Roy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-09-20 14:03:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9494759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuthwyn/pseuds/Cuthwyn
Summary: Tim is dead.Bruce had lost another son.Typically, Bruce is far from accepting of this and is adamant that he can bring Tim back.His search leads him back to the man who'd helped with Damian's resurrection.John Constantine.Only to be told the same thing he was told when he had asked for advice about bringing Damian back.Go ask Jason.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have other stories to finish but this popped into my head while watching a film with my girlfriend.  
> If I don't write it down it won't leave my head and I'll never get the rest of my writing finished.
> 
> Also, Tim has been gone long enough!  
> Damnit DC!!

'Not long now.'  
The voice echoed, distant, strange yet familiar.  
It was dark, not the darkness you get at night, when the lights are out. A true darkness, it wasn't a darkness that could be described as black but nothing. An endless nothing.  
Fingers fumbled for a lighter, the gas coughing to life a flame, a pointless flame.  
This wasn't darkness, darkness could be lit by a flame, this was nothing.  
'They'll find me soon.'  
'Hello?' Jason called out, hearing his own voice echoing around him. He moved forwards, towards that far away, distant voice, as empty as the darkness, yet familiar. 'I'm here!'  
Jason knew he was moving forwards yet he had no sensation of movement, no feeling of moving forwards.  
This was the darkness, nothing, the lighter still burned futilely.  
'Jason?'  
'I'm here! It's me, Jason? I can't find you?' Jason called out into the darkness, peering through it as if seeing into nothing was something you could do. He was starting to feel frightened, he clutched hold of it like a drowning man, feeling something.  
'Jason! Jason I'm here. I'm frightened Jason.'  
'I'm frightened too.' Jason called out again, feeling his chest tighten as if trying to breathe. 'Who are you?'  
'Not long now. They'll find me soon. Someone will find me soon.'  
The voice drifted further away, disappearing into the nothing, dissipating into the nothingness. Jason gasped and tried to lunge forwards, but he was hurtling backwards.   
He knew that voice.  
'Tim!'

Air rushed into starved lungs and Jason's eyes flew open. Gasping for breath, he looked around and recognised darkness, proper darkness, the sort you saw when you switched the lights out.  
Another lungful of air hit him and Jason sat up and looked around.  
He was lying in a bed, He could feel the springs digging into his thighs, the coarse fabric of bedding too old to really be used anymore, the smell of detergent used to wash them anyway.  
Closing his eyes, Jason concentrated on those feelings, grounding himself.   
It was a nightmare, just another nightmare. Like always.  
A cloying protest of that clung to the edges of his mind and try as he might he could not calm himself down. The damn stupid breathing techniques weren't fucking working!  
Forcing in another gulp of air, Jason reached out with a trembling hand and switched on the lamp. Gulping yet another lungful of air, Jason blinked at the sudden brightness before gazing down at his shaking hands. A reaction to his nightmare, probably, maybe. Maybe another reason entirely.  
His breathing wasn't regulating, fear pressed around his head like a vice, he wasn't calming down.  
It was getting harder to calm down lately. A part of him whispered that it was getting worse but Jason shut it out, he'd deal with that another time. There was always another time.

Instead, Jason pulled away the sheets and stumbled to his feet, padding across to the bathroom and switching on an even brighter light. He liked light. The sky in the ground, the nothing, those places didn't have light. The real world did, reality, where he should be.  
Jason moved robotically to the cabinet and took out the packet of Valium. It was almost all gone, he'd need more soon. Grunting, Jason added that onto his todo list and popped one small white pill out, before taking out another moments later. One more won't hurt.   
The Roy in his head muttered something about how it is always one more, that it was getting worse.  
'Fuck off!' Jason spat into the empty bathroom, as if physically verbalising the response would make the voice in his head go away. He knew what did make everything go away, what made everything okay again. Smirking, Jason purposely ignored his own reflection as he threw back the pills and chased them down with a glass of water. He had no need to feel bad about it, it was medication, his medication. He needed it, that's what the nurses always used to say.  
Deciding to splash some of the cold water onto his face, Jason finally looked up into the mirror and immediately regretted it. He barely recognised the man looking back at him, that was nothing new, his subconscious always expected to see a teenager, a boy. That he had learnt to cope with, seeing an older him, he'd started to get to know him a little, but then it got worse. Jason didn't recognise the man anymore and that was more than a little unnerving. Instead, he focused on the dark circles around bloodshot eyes, the complexion paling to the point where on anyone else he'd check for a pulse. He had a pulse though, he could feel his heart hammering in his chest still.  
Tearing his eyes away, Jason reached with hands that still shook terribly for a towel and dried his face. It would be okay. In 15 minutes the meds would have kicked in, and he'd be okay again.

Leaving the bathroom light on he walked into the living space of the bedsit and switched on that light too. He'd fill the whole world with light if he could. If he could see the light he wouldn't get lost in the nothing. Jason spotted his jacket still slung on the couch were he'd left it and he stumbled over to put it on. He'd have a cigarette, take some night air and wait for the calmness to hit him.  
Decision made, Jason opened the window to climb out onto the fire escape and checked his phone.  
There were a ton of missed calls from Artemis. Nothing new there. She wouldn't find him, thank God Bizarro couldn't work a phone.  
There were a slightly smaller amount of calls and text messages from Dick. Definitely nothing new there.  
There was no comment to the missed calls off Bruce.  
And one voicemail, off the only person who ever really bothered to leave him one anymore. Everyone knew if he didn't pick up he wouldn't listen to a voicemail. Everyone, except the fucking idiot.  
Grumbling to himself, Jason sat down on the metal step and clicked on the little green envelope, lighting himself a cigarette mindlessly.

'H-Hello? Hi, erm, it's Roy. Well, heh, guess ya know that already huh? Jaybird? Can I call ya Jaybird still? Maybe not, ha. Jason, I-I don't expect ya to call me back. Actually, scratch that I know ya won't. We're done. I-I'm not calling to try and change that. I get it, okay? Well, kinda but, but anyway um, how are ya? It's just, you weren't at Tim's funeral? I know that was ages ago and I wasn't lookin' I just thought, anyway, Artemis? Your new partner? Teammate? She's worried. Dick's worried, Bruce, Alfred, Damian, Kori, that nurse you like? Everyone's worried about ya Jason. I-I am too? You mean a lot to me Dude. I know, you don't, that you don't, that feelings aren't reciprocated and that's fine? Yeah? Just, just let someone know you're okay? Please, Jaybird. I lov-I gotta go. Stay safe.'

Letting out a long breath of smoke, Jason stared down at his phone for a moment before wordlessly deleting the message. Ignoring it like the hundreds of missed calls and unopened text messages. He just needed time, alone, away from life. He was fine, he was, even if the voice in his head echoed that it was getting worse.  
Jason took another drag, feeling the smoke hit his lungs as he thumbed through the pictures on his phone. Stopping on one in particular. It was the last photo of him and Tim.  
They were sat in a some coffee shop in Europe. Tim perched on his lap grinning like an idiot while he took a selfie with his brother's phone, Jason looked past Tim's shoulder at the man he knew was himself flipping the bird and scowling. He didn't recognise himself though, not how he used to.  
His eyes drifted back to Tim's face and the voice from his nightmare echoed in his head.  
'Jason! Jason, I'm here. I'm frightened, Jason.'  
'I'm frightened too.' Jason whispered back at the photo, before pocketing his phone and staring off into the street. It had been a long time since he'd been able to cry. Before Tim's death maybe? Definitely after Roy, he was certain that he'd cried then. That was still a long time ago.

A giggling caught his attention. Frowning, Jason scooted forwards to spot a little girl, just below him in the street. She only looked about 10 years old, far too young to be out at this hour. He assumed her to be a street kid but her hair was brushed, clothing too clean and well fitting. Her clothing was outdated though, maybe something kids wore in the 70's? A cute little green pinafore dress that proofed out with a matching hair ribbon, knee high yellow socks that matched her shirt and brown dolly shoes.  
Jason watched the girl playing with a skipping rope with interest, to make sure she was okay. A couple of people walked past and none paid her any attention and she didn't pay any mind to them either.  
'Hello? Little girl are you alright?' Jason called out softly, when the street became deserted again.  
The little girl carried on skipping for a moment before stopping and peering up in his direction.  
Offering a small wave, Jason smiled in the hopes of looking more approachable.  
'I like your dress? It's very pretty?'  
The girl cocked her head, ginger curls bobbing, she seemed almost confused by him.  
'It's okay. I'm one of the good guys, kinda?' Jason called out, the meds were starting to kick in and finally, Jason felt calm. He could barely focus on the little girl, who waved back at him.  
Closing his eyes, Jason took a final drag from his cigarette, welcoming the gradual hush that seeped over him.   
He glanced back at the little girl and frowned in confusion. She was gone. He searched up and down the street but there was no sign of her.

'Fucks sake.' Jason grumbled to himself, throwing away his cigarette to the very empty street, he clambered back inside. He'd obviously been hallucinating and making a twat of himself. Roy always got concerned when he'd done that and made him go lie down for a bit.  
Actually, thinking about it, the Valium had slowed him down enough that dozing off seemed a good idea.   
Jason didn't go back to bed, he didn't dare, the remnants of his nightmare still lingered in the sheets. Instead, he just curled up on the couch and let his heavy eyelids close once more. His thoughts connecting and disconnecting but it didn't bother him. He just felt calm, it felt artificial but he'd go for what he could get. Sleep felt good too. So that's what he did.

'Not long now. They'll find me soon. Someone will find me soon.'

 

Bruce didn't come to England as the Batman. He didn't want that kind of attention. Bruce Wayne wasn't as famous in the bustling streets of London. No one looked twice at the well dressed American walking along the pavement in Shepard Bush, halting outside a very ordinary Victorian terraced house.  
This house though was far from ordinary.

The room was thick with smoke, curtains drawn to dim the sunlight, giving it an eery red glow. In any other room it would have looked warm, but here it just illuminated odd looking trinkets and the odd skull strewn about amongst the books and old take-out boxes.  
'I know why you're here. You want me to bring back yet another son. My condolences by the way.'  
John Constantine barely lifted his head from where he was slumped on the couch, sounding almost bored.  
Bruce took a deep breath, his fists clenching by his sides at the man's blatant dismissal.  
'You look a mess.'  
'I had a long night? I'm knackered, thought you of all people would get that?' John drawled from beneath his cushion.   
Bruce swept a glance around the ransacked room before storming over to draw back the curtains and open a window.  
'Looks like more than just a long night. Why bother lighting a cigarette? You might as well just breathe the air!'  
Throwing the cushion away from his face, John shot him a fiery look and reached to light a cigarette, just to see the annoyance twitch at the edges of the man's lips.  
'Not all of us have a bloody butler! Why are you here?'  
'You just told me why I'm here. Don't play games.'  
'Don't play games? You're the one wanting to mess with stuff that ain't aught to be messed with.'  
'Will you help me or not, John?' Bruce grit out through clenched teeth. He was tired so very, very tired. He knew that the dead should be left to rest, damn it all he had Jason, he knew what happened. However, Damian had adjusted well and he just, he just wanted his son back. To not wake up to that familiar numbness anymore, was that so bad? 

'I helped you before. You didn't listen to me.'  
'Yes I did!' Bruce yelled at the man slouched on the couch like they were talking about the weather. 'Jason didn't help! All I did was drive him further away. I'm asking you to help me bring back my son.'  
'I can't do that, Bruce.' John said plainly, shrieking when Bruce kicked at a sealed glass jar, almost sending it crashing into the opposite wall if John hadn't caught it in midair.  
'Fucks sake Bruce calm down! Do you know what unholy demon you'd have let bloody loose if this broke?' John snapped angrily, smoothing his hands over the jar as if soothing a hurt child. 'George keeps me company.'  
'You have a demon in a jar called George?' Bruce shook his head at the jar, before motioning towards it violently. 'You know about demons and spirits. I know you can bring Tim back!'  
'No. I can't. Even if I wanted to.' John replied calmly, setting George down on the floor next to his feet, he looked up at his friend. 'I don't have that connection, with what you'd describe, as the spirit world. Why can't you just let Tim rest in peace?'  
'What if he isn't in peace? Jason wasn't.'  
A small smirk tugged at John's lips.  
'Ever wondered why he never found peace in this world?'   
'John!'  
'Alright! Don't get ya knickers in a twist.' He groused, standing up he crossed the room to stare out of the window next to Bruce, his face solemn and thoughtful. 'I don't know what you want me to say? Death is death. It's what it is? If Tim can be brought back? I can't help you. As I keep saying, you need to speak to Jason.'  
'I tried. It didn't work. He refused to help me.' Bruce mumbled, and John almost thought he could see tears in his eyes. Pursing his lips, he patted the grieving man's shoulder and motioned to the couch. 'Sit down. I'll get the coffee. You look like you need caffeine as much as I do.'

Moments later, Bruce found himself sipping coffee and trying not to look at the freaky looking handcuffs in the corner. Turning to John, he shook his head dejectedly and took another mouthful of coffee.  
'I mean it John, I did what you said, I went to Jason.'  
'You tricked him into going to Sarajevo is what you did.' John practically sighed, sipping his own drink he sat it down on top of a pile of books. 'You triggered the bloody hell out of the lad and wondered why he ran. That's not what I told you to do.'  
'You said Jason's death was the key?'  
Eyes widening, John nodded slowly before dragging a weary hand down his face.  
'Shit. I did didn't I? I really have got to remember you Bats take stuff literally. Look!'   
Picking up George he held him out with a half smile.   
'What do you see? Feel?'  
Sighing, Bruce gave him a very wary look before shaking his head.  
'Nothing. I don't possess your particular, talent.'  
'Exactly. If I were to walk out into the street and introduce people to George, they'd declare me a madman and lock me up. Again.' John explained, watching the cogs tick behind blue eyes.

'Are you trying to tell me my son is sane?' Bruce asked, the defensive threat clear in his tone and John burst out laughing and shook his head.  
'Oh no. Jay is completely bonkers.' Pausing, John placed George back down on the floor, pursing his lips thoughtfully. 'I'm not saying he definitely can help. Just that he might be able to? Has - has he ever spoken to you about stuff? Flying? Seeing folks? Voices? A darkness?'  
'Jason won't tell me if he has a cold.' Bruce replied flatly, before a spark lit up behind his eyes. 'If he told anyone it would be Roy Harper.'  
'Where's he now?'  
'Back home last time I checked?' Bruce answered, before blinking at the empty spot in confusion. 'John?'  
'Come on then. Mind if we take the quick route? I hate planes.' John called from where he was doing, something, with a bag of salt and some chalk. Bruce just stared, completely lost for words.  
Pausing, John rolled his eyes and counted slowly to ten.  
'Bruce. This is me helping. We're gonna go talk to Roy.'  
'Oh. You're coming with me?'  
'Yes Bruce. Mainly because if you drag Jason back to that bloody warehouse? I'll put you in that jar with George!'


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, finals, essays and placement season has approached.
> 
> I tried to proof read this but currently sleep deprived and running on caffeine and my cheery disposition.  
> I'll probably have to come back to this and correct the horrendous mistakes.  
> Sorry!

Bruce blinked away the heady daze that he found himself in and let go of John to look around. They were in an apartment. There was nothing overly notable about it. Couch, television, coffee table, all cheap but functional. Like John's house in Shepards Bush, it was a mess.  
There was a t-shirt screwed up oddly in the far corner. Crossing over to it he unfolded the red jersey fabric to reveal a Wonder Woman slogan.  
'Jason?' Bruce muttered under his breath, before clocking the bow and quiver in the far corner. 'Roy? Have we gone back in time John?'  
Shrugging, John looked around the room with slight intrigue.  
'Nah. This was the last place I met Mr Harper. I need a visual to transport us. We're in Gotham. This- well, there were a lot of heart balloons last time I was here. I tried to forget that bit.'  
'What? How? Why were you here?' Bruce asked, his confusion growing to a whole new level and John just smirked.  
'Not my place to say. You're better asking Jason that.'

'Ask Jason what? Jason isn't here, or did you miss the part where we broke up Bruce?'   
Came a rough, gravelly voice from a door way.   
Turning, Bruce looked at Roy slouched against what had to be the door to the bedroom. Arms folded and looking far from impressed, he'd clearly been trying to sleep judging by the shadows under his eyes and sleep tussled hair. His threatening, sleep deprived aesthetic was ruined by the Nightwing sleep pants hung low on the man's hips.  
'Roy?'  
'Yeah Bruce? Maybe next time you decide to break into someone's place, you should check that they aren't in first; maybe keep the noise down?'  
Swallowing, Bruce nodded and glanced back at John who seemed far too amused by the whole thing.  
'I didn't break in. We, well, I have to admit I'm not sure how I got here? We were in London and then everything went, fuzzy.'  
'Fuzzy?' Roy parroted, lifting accusing eyes to John, who just smiled and waved. 'Hmm, at least this time I have pants on. What do you want Constantine? Jason isn't here.' Pausing, Roy's complexion paled significantly before he stepped into the room. 'J-Jason. He's - he's okay right?'  
'No ones seen him for nearly a month but -'  
'He's in Gotham. That much I can tell you.' Roy interrupted, eyes snapping to the shirt in Bruce's hand. 'I ain't squealing on his exact location. Not if he's okay.'

Nodding, Bruce pursed his lips. He wanted to call Roy out on his misplaced loyalty. He was dallying around with Dick again. The knowledge must of hurt Jason the same way it had hurt Dick when the roles were reversed, but he kept his silence. If Jason was the key to getting Tim back and Roy could help, then he'd play nice to get what he wanted out of the boy.  
'Coffee! Who would like a coffee? I'm gasping.' John suddenly declared, before sauntering off towards the kitchen. 'Aw, no Chilli Dogs this time. You got any crisps in?'  
'Crisps?'   
'Potato chips.' Bruce informed the bemused archer before sitting down on the couch with a defeated sigh. Looking from him to John clattering around in his kitchen, Roy threw his arms out in frustration and sat down heavily in the armchair.  
'Sure whatever, make yourselves at home! Not like you two don't live here or anything!'  
'You owe me!' John called out from the kitchen, Roy just flipped him the bird, grumbling away under his breath.   
Bruce's ears picked up when he heard handcuffs, Valentine's Day, Jason and incubus.  
'How do you known John, Roy?'  
'Just, just don't ask, Bruce, okay? Just don't even start.' Roy grumbled, crossing his arms and pouting like a petulant child. Nodding slowly, Bruce decided to let it go. He knew what an incubus was and he really didn't want to know the details unless-   
'Jason he wasn't forced into any sexual-'  
'Oh my God Bruce! No! Just drop it.'

 

Nodding again, Bruce accepted the cup of coffee John gave to him and decided to just sit quietly and sip his drink. John sitting next to him after handing Roy his own.  
Roy didn't touch his coffee, he peered over at the two men sat on his couch as if this were a mother's meeting.  
'So, someone gonna tell me why you're here? Or did we just fancy spending time with Harper?'  
Bruce looked over at John before sighing and setting down his coffee onto the coffee table.  
'How's Jason?'  
'How should I know!' Roy protested, before catching Bruce's knowing look and running a weary hand down his face. 'Not good. I think he's either abusing his Valium or feeding it to the pigeons. Either way I canna do jack shit about it.'  
'How do you know-'  
'We still have that joint account. Over the last month, he has bought twice the amount of Valium than a person could need.' Roy replied, eyes growing glassy with held back tears. 'W-we worked on cutting down the Zopiclone. When we broke up, he barely used it, only on bad nights. He's been purchasing that with more frequency since Tim - yeah.'  
'Oh. I'm - I'm sorry.'  
'Ha, you're sorry? Bruce, you've not noticed your own son going down hill, and you wonder why he ends up in such a mess.'

'You say Jason's taking more benzodiazepines and hypnotics? Is Jason trying to blot someone or something out?' John interrupted before the pair could sink into a rather pointless slanging match. He watched confusion melt slowly into understanding across Roy's face, he nodded thoughtfully.  
'I guess? That might make sense?'  
'Roy, this is going to sound odd but when you were together and Jason wasn't, well. Did he see or hear things? A darkness when he slept perhaps?'  
Roy blinked, a recollection flitted across his eyes before the young man shook his head and turned away.  
'That's Jaybird's business. Not yours.'  
'But he did, didn't he?' John pushed with a small smile, eyes lighting up with the thought that his suspicions might be right. 'Roy, listen to me, I need to know. There's a chance, that maybe, Jason could help Tim.'  
'Tim's dead.'  
'And so was Jason, lad.'  
Shaking his head violently, Roy leapt to his feet, fists clenched and his face almost matching the colour of his hair.  
'Get out.'

'Roy listen Jason can-'  
'I don't care what you think Jason can or cannot do! I won't let this happen again Bruce. I will not let you hurt him, again. He ain't goin' back to that God forsaken hell of a valley! I don't care if it brings back Tim. I mean it! You're sick! Fucking sick!' Roy yelled over Bruce's attempt of an explanation, hauling the man up by his shirt with a snarl.  
'Woah, woah Roy calm down! Trust me, Bruce so much as coughs something resembling Ethiopia, he's going in the jar with George.' John interjected, keeping his voice low and calm, he watched the boy thankfully release his hold.  
'Who the fucks George?'  
'My demon.' John replied, as if George was a pet cat, and Roy just stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. 'Please, Roy, all I ask is that you hear me out? I know you care about Jason but so do I. The kids been through enough, yeah?'  
Nodding slowly, Roy swallowed thickly and sat back down, his gaze remaining wary and guarded.  
'My Jaybird, Roy?'   
Bruce couldn't help but point out that particular phrasing, but soon shut up when John mouthed 'George' at him.  
' Please, tell me more about Jason.'

'I'm guessing you don't want to know that he likes to spend Sunday afternoons watching crappy Spanish soap operas?' Roy grumbled bitterly, before sighing and studying the dirt beneath his fingernails. 'Like y'say. He-he experiences hallucinations, which ain't surprising, but it wasn't always related to his trauma. That, was odd.'  
'How so?' John pressed, brow knotting together in concentration.  
'Well, he'd see kids, things, people I guess. It's a good warning sign that he's heading for a psychosis.'   
Roy looked up to see if that was enough information, only for John to motion for him to continue. Despite his want to protest, Roy relented, the freaky ass British guy was apparently quite easy to talk to.   
'I dunno um, like nightmares? They're pretty much the bread and butter to Jaybird's illness, flashing back to events and such. He's terrified of the sky in the ground, but I know what that is. It's being buried alive, the sky being the blue satin on the inside of the coffin. Sky in the ground get it? Anyway, that I could understand but -' pausing Roy shot John a fearful look and shook his head. 'Well, you said darkness and I'm tellin' ya, Jason never talked about no darkness, but, there was the nothing.'   
Failing at hiding a shudder, Roy drew his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them. The mere thought of it sending a chill up his spine.  
'He don't have to be ill to go there. Just asleep. It- when he hallucinates, flashes back to shit? Jaybird's there, ya get me? He's lost but he's there, but when he went into the nothing? Jesus John, it were like he left me? I always knew when he'd gone there, before he woke up screaming. I knew because, when he went into the nothing? My Jaybird had left and all that was laying beside me was a body. Jaybird is terrified of that place. I guess nothing could be pretty dark?'

Nodding, John reached out and patted the boy's hand, his face etched with a solemn empathy.  
'Nothing is a very good description, Jaybird should be a writer. I'm sorry lad, truly.'   
'Sorry? Why are you sorry?' Roy genuinely asked, searching grey blue eyes that seemed to almost be on the verge of tears.  
'Do you know what the nothing is? Where Jason goes? It's purgatory, Roy, limbo, the inbetween whatever you call it, the place remains the same. Endless nothing. No time, no space just an eternal hollowness. Souls pass through on their journey to the other side. Some become lost. Barred from entering heaven or hell for whatever reason. These lost souls are doomed to forever linger in a void, but not a void because a void is something. This is nothing. One thing is certain, very few ever find their way back out.'  
'Souls like, like Jason's?' Roy mumbled, glancing up at Bruce who was just sat with a faraway look. 'Jason was there and now Tim?'  
Shaking his head, John took a sip of coffee, leaning back against the couch he closed his eyes, only being able to see that look in Roy's eyes for so long.  
'Yes, no, maybe? I dunno lad. Souls pass through there after death. Tim might be lost there but I doubt it? He should be able to pass through, he was a good kid, unless something is holding him back. Jason, wasn't, stuck there, he just past through, of that I'm sure. Thing with Jason is, he's died once already. The souls lost in the nothing are desperate to get out. Wouldn't you be? The living can and have been able to pass through, but they are noticed pretty swiftly and that can cause, problems. Jason seems to be a pretty frequent visitor by the sounds of it. My guess would be that his presence isn't sensed the same way.'

'You guess? You're just making this up as you go along! I swear if you are sending me on a wild goose chase like with Sarajevo-'  
'I never told you to go to Sarajevo! Will you get that through your thick skull!' John snapped, turning to glare at Bruce, who glared right back. 'Yeah, I'm guessing but it's an educated one, which is more than you can do. Jason's been waltzing off to the spirit world and none of you dimwits even realised. I'm human Bruce, I don't know everything, but I know a damn sight more than you so hush up and listen to teacher.'  
Snorting, Roy smirked through tearful eyes at Bruce being put in his place. It was more and more clear as time went on exactly why Jason liked the crazy, magic British guy. Cocking an eyebrow at the boy, John returned the smirk and patted Bruce's knee.  
'Now, if Tim wants to come back? Jason will have to go get him. If he's past over and is settled he might want to stay. Jason can't force him to return with him.'  
'Wait, woah, hold it! You wanna send Jaybird back to that awful place? He's terrified of it y'get me? How is this any different to what Bat-moron did huh? No. I won't let you do this to him.' Roy protested, standing up again he crossed the room and opened the front door. 'Get out!'

'Bat-moron.' John parroted in amusement, before shooting Roy a look that was almost bored. 'I ain't forcing him to do owt, lad. I'm just telling you both what it's gonna take to get Timmy-boy back. Come on Roy, think about it. I doubt Jason remembers what the nothing is, hence why he thinks it's a nightmare? When in fact his Astral Projecting all over the place.'  
'Astral what now?'   
Pausing by the door, Roy frowned in confusion and John sighed.  
'Bloody Muggles. It's when your soul goes wandering outside of your body. A little holiday is you will? I can teach Jason how to do it when he's awake. To have more control over where he goes and what he does. If he wants and only if he wants, he can go get his brother. Roy, listen, you said Jason has been abusing his medication right? I think he's already trying, if subconsciously.'  
Roy paused, chewing on his thumb nail anxiously as the words set in, eyes shooting over to Bruce who was still staring off blankly into space. The closest the man ever got to being upset. Swallowing thickly, Roy felt his shoulders sag as he ran a hand down his face.  
'Oh God.' He mumbled, wincing at the tendrils of fear that slunk into his voice. 'It's real! Th-the nothing. Jaybird!'   
Tears dropped onto his cheeks and he didn't even realise that anyone had moved until the door shut and hands clutched his shoulders tightly.  
'I know, Son. I know.' Bruce's voice soothed, and Roy blinked up at the man clutching his shoulders in surprise.  
'B-Bruce. Jason.'  
'I know, Son.' Bruce repeated and Roy nodded, recognising a similar pain in the man's eyes to his own. 'John, he's going to help him. I promise.'

'You promise?' Pulling a face, Roy shook his head and turned away. 'I can't trust your promises.'  
'What about mine, Lad? Hmm?' John joined in, not touching Roy but standing just close enough to broach on his personal space. 'I understand that this will scare Jason but Roy, is living like this doing him any good either? I can teach him to control it and at the same time, maybe even reach Tim too. Don't those two boys deserve that chance? Two brothers who'd only just begun to build a relationship, who never got to say goodbye.'  
There was a heavy silence as Roy looked from the two men, to the apartment him and Jason had shared together. Inhaling deeply, he broke free from Bruce's grasp and walked over to the coffee table and scribbled something down on a piece of paper.  
'I- he doesn't wanna see me. I don't think he wants to see anyone but um, this, this is where to find him. Just leave my name outta it if you want him on side.'   
Walking back over he handed the paper over to John with trembling hands and pleading eyes. 'You promise to help him? Not, not exploit him to try and get Tim back? Promise!'  
'Will you believe me if I do?' John probed with a knowing smile, opening the paper he read the address with a slight nod. 'Jason and I met in Arkham. Remember that lad. Hmm, I dunno where this is? Brucie, I think we're going to need a car.'  
'Well, yes? I refuse to travel everywhere via voodoo.' Bruce deadpanned.  
'It's not voodoo?'   
Rolling his eyes, John shook his head and offered Roy a small salute.   
'Fuck it, I'm going out for a smoke. Nice seeing you again Roy, with more clothes this time.'  
Forcing a smile, Roy nodded and watched the man leave before turning to Bruce and shrugging a shoulder.  
'Ain't y'gonna follow him? Or are we gonna have the judgemental rant I know has been brewing ever since the break up? Jason ain't some damsel in distress, he split with me, remember?'

Shaking his head, Bruce moved away and redid the buttons of his coat with a very weary sigh.  
'What would the point be? All I'm saying on the matter is that you are a damn fool.'  
Roy didn't respond, well not verbally anyway, he just frowned and walked away to sit back down on the couch.  
'He loves you.'  
'Who?'  
'Both of them.' Bruce replied, watching the boy blatantly ignore him. 'Everyone Jason has ever trusted has lied to him. You promised you'd always be there.'  
'Jay knows where to find me.' Roy shot back, wiping at fresh tears he shook his head. 'We didn't work. Like Jason said, we're too different, too messed up. It was his decision to leave Bruce, stop looking at me like that.'  
Bruce didn't, instead his disapproving look deepened to the point of almost being the Batglare.  
'Yet, you are still on the joint account and still keep tabs on him? How many times have you shoved how much I don't understand my son in my face? And yet, here you are? Not understanding.'  
Smirking at the bemused expression he was being given, Bruce cocked a knowing eyebrow.  
'Jason told you he wasn't a hero? Yeah, I know, we've talked. He's been struggling. For a long time Jason has had a very poor sense of self, a weak grasp on who he is. He discovered who he was with you. That frightened him. You're an old hat at the recovery game Roy, have you forgotten what it's like at the beginning? How long was it until you realised that recovery wasn't a straight road?'  
The smirk grew at Roy's shell shocked expression and he decided that, that was his cue to leave.  
'Just what I thought. Good bye Roy and thank you for your help.' 

Stepping out into the brisk early morning breeze, the sun still yet to rise like it had done in London, Bruce shoved his hands into his coat pockets. Tim always dealt with time zones exceedingly well, probably because his son never had any idea what time of the day or night it was to start with. Tim. Closing his eyes, Bruce sighed and massaged his temples, his chest ached at the thought of what Jason had to do to. In his eyes, the road trip to Sarajevo was easier than trying to convince his troubled son to go somewhere John even thought was horrible.  
'Bruce! Over here mate!'  
Blinking, Bruce looked up to see John lounging on the bonnet of a running car. He just stared for a moment, before deciding to take the same approach as he did with the kids. He wasn't going to ask where the car came from.  
'Give me the address.'  
'Aren't we forgetting something?'  
Scowling at Johns very empty hands, Bruce turned to storm off down the street.  
'Fine! Finding my wayward son has become a bit of a speciality. I can find him anyway.'  
'The body, Bruce? Need I remind you of that? Mr 'my wayward son has become a speciality'.'John griped, producing a spade Bruce hadn't noticed was on the bonnet. 'How's ya digging Boyo?'  
Bruce swallowed thickly and looked away, mumbling something that John couldn't quite hear.  
'Huh? Speak up, not all of us have bat hearing?'  
'There's no body in Tim's grave.'  
John blinked back blankly, completely and utterly disbelieving, but at the same time the admission was hardly a surprise.  
'I took him home, John. Tim's at home.'


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... finally know where I'm going with this one! 

'At home?' John broached carefully as they drove along Gotham's streets. Bruce didn't answer, he just kept his eyes on the road. 'Tim is at home?'  
'What's left of him.'  
'Left?' John questioned, feeling ill at the thought of Alfred fetching frozen peas out of the freezer next to Tim's head.   
'His Bō Staff.' Bruce replied and John just stared. Did any member of this family have their head screwed on right? Swallowing, he turned to watch the neighbourhood grow rougher and rougher as they sped along. Bruce really needed to learn where the break was.  
'Um, no offence, but, well, that ain't a body? Where are Tim's remains?'  
By some form of magic John knew nothing about, the car sped up even further.  
'After- the drones he, there was nothing left. I searched the site for weeks but only ever found his Bō Staff. I never had a body to bury but his siblings and Steph? How could I explain that to them? The kids are all hanging by a thread as it is.'  
John frowned a little, his mind running a million miles an hour. There was no body for Tim to return to. Not even a fingernail. But then, Jason had somehow managed to reverse 6 months of decomposition?  
'I'm sorry.' John mumbled, just as the car grew to a halt outside a block of apartments that looked like they should be condemned.

The pair left the car in silence.  
They remained in silence as they entered the rancid foyer and began climbing very precarious looking stairs. There wasn't a soul to be seen and John quickly came to the conclusion that the place was condemned. A perfect hiding place for a young man who didn't want to be found by loved ones or the authorities.  
They finally paused outside a plain wooden door. Bruce knocked and waited patiently. Turning slightly, he quirked an eyebrow at John who looked like he was watching a natural phenomenon.  
'You actually know what one of those is for?'  
Bruce wasn't amused. Knocking again, he listened carefully for any signs of life.  
'He may be my son but Jason can still be volatile when he's unwell. Even on good days he's highly suspicious.'  
'Nature, nurture, right there!' John muttered under his breath.  
'He's been known to set what he calls 'traps', as security measures. Ask Dick how he lost his eyebrows last year. He tried to sneak into Jason's apartment to leave a birthday present, like Santa apparently.' Shaking his head, Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Why do I have them John? Just why? Jason's birthday is in August!'  
'That's what a therapist is for. I know a fab one, would you like their number?'

His response was Bruce slamming his fist against the door, the wood literally vibrating with the force.  
'Jay! Open this door! Right now young man! I know you're in there!' Bruce bellowed at the top of his voice.  
'Bruce, I really don't think that is going to wor-'  
The sound of multiple locks clicking interrupted John, he turned to blink in surprise as the door pulled open a crack.   
'What!'   
Came a stroppy voice from behind the door.  
Bruce sighed wearily and ran a hand down his face.  
'Jay, I'm not here to yell at you.'  
'Could have fooled me.' Jason grumbled, sounding so very tired before simply disappearing from the door and letting it swing open. John blinked again, shocked at being let in without much of a fight and by the look on Bruce's face, he was just as surprised by his son's invitation.

The apartment was shabby but if they had been visiting Dick, neither man would have raised an eyebrow. Dirty dishes lay in the sink, the bin and laundry basket were overflowing, there were take out boxes piled in one corner. Anyone else, and it would just be untidy, but this was Jason. Untidy was worrying.  
Bruce looked on the verge of tears as he stepped inside, his fists clenching by his sides in an attempt to keep control of himself.  
'Jason.' He muttered, eyes falling to the mound of blanket curled up on the couch. It hurt to see his son so unwell. He had lost weight, his personal hygiene was shaky at best and deep, dark circles surrounded his eyes. 'Jay, we talked about this. What happened to calling Dick?'  
Empty, teal eyes turned to peer up at Bruce before Jason sighed and got up to stumble towards the kitchen, blanket draped over his shoulders.  
'Whatever.' He ground out, clattering around in the kitchen before filling up the sink to wash his cups. 'Not like you care. Don't look at me like that. Why should I tell you huh? You don't care, just as long as I'm a good boy. Why should I tell you? Don't look at me like that!'  
'Jay, come on. You know you get like this when you're- when things aren't going well. I'm not even looking at you?'

'Coffee!' John called out from the other side of the counter, smiling at Jason when he blinked and looked over at him. It was pretty obvious the troubled boy hadn't noticed his presence. 'I'd love a coffee Jay, if that's okay?'  
There was a long, tense pause. Bruce staring at the floor while Jason blinked slowly at John before finally nodding jerkily.  
'Oh! Coffee. Okay. Yes. Can do that. Offer guests drinks, Alfred always said so.' He muttered away to himself, his thoughts quickly taking him down pleasant trails involving the butler he held so dear. John smiled and took off his jacket, setting it down on the couch he thought the father/son crisis successfully diverted.  
'You're not a guest!' Jason suddenly snapped, glaring at Bruce who to his credit actually hadn't breathed a word.  
'Bruce? Can you come help me figure out this thingy majig?' John called over, sitting down on the couch he brought out his phone and frowned at it. He didn't look up when he heard Bruce wander over and sit down next to him. He didn't need to look to known that there was a raised eyebrow aimed at his phone's home screen.  
'What's the issue?'  
'You.' John whispered, showing Bruce his phone as if he needed help with something. 'Give the lad some space.'  
'You bossing me around is starting to grate John!'  
'After all theses years in the League you'd think you'd have learnt how to be a team player by now?'  
'What does that mean?'

'You're an antisocial asshole.' Jason griped, stomping into the living room he handed the coffee over to John before sliding down the opposite wall to sit in the floor, cup of tea in hand. He pointedly did not look at Bruce. 'Whatever it is you think I did? I didn't do it.'  
'Jay, please, we were on a good footing a few weeks ago? What's happened?' Bruce asked, trying and failing to catch his son's eye. Ducking his head down, Jason sipped his tea quietly before closing his eyes and shaking his head.  
'I don't know.'  
To be fair to the boy. He never truly lied. About his mental health. Sure, he'd lie until he was blue in the face about the bullet wound in his shoulder but he never denied not feeling quite himself. Not since Arkham. Instead, all anyone got was a tirade of abuse and accusations as Jason tried to push his loved ones away, to protect them as well as himself. It broke Bruce's heart each and every time, and each and every time, he found himself stumbling through the dark trying to makes things right. To get Jason to smile, just once. To hear Jason's laugh. Even when he was well, Jason rarely laughed. Bruce missed that about the new Jason who emerged from the pit. Never the less, Bruce was always Jason's first target to sling abuse at and Bruce never quite managed to sneak around that. To gain a little of the trust the boy kept hidden behind his wall.

'Well, can we try to be civil Jason? For John's sake?'  
Teal eyes lifted to study John sat drinking coffee, the picture of a carefree Sunday afternoon and Jason nodded stiffly.  
'For John's sake. Why is he here anyway? Dickface is normally your first choice when you bring the cavalry to yell at me.'  
Sighing, Bruce studiously ignored that he was the only one without a drink and leant forwards to pinch the bridge of his nose. This was exactly why a good 80% of their conversations went pear shaped.  
'Jay, son, I'm not here to shout at you. I'm worried about you and I need your help.'  
'Help?'   
The word seemed to perk Jason's interest and he lifted his head to look expectantly at Bruce who, didn't quite know what to do. In his experience, Jason usually latched onto his declaration of worry and bit back at him about it. However, his son seemed to have accepted it as if almost agreeing and latching onto his offer of help instead.  
'Help with what Bruce?'

'Jay? Jay, I need you to listen to me very carefully okay?'   
John moved to crouch down in front of Jason and took hold of his hand. Jason frowned down at his hand before teal eyes heavy with concern and distress lifted to meet his.  
'Who's dead?' Jason croaked, clearing his throat he shot an accusing look back over at Bruce. 'I swear if it's Grayson I call bullshit!'  
Chuckling, John shook his head and squeezed Jason's hand lightly to regain his attention.  
'No, no Jason, everyone is fine.'  
Screwing up his face, Jason stared off at the doorway.  
'Not everyone.'   
The words needed no explanation. The person Jason was referring to hung heavy in the air like a ghost.  
'No, not everyone. I assume you miss Timothy very much?'  
Jason shook his head and looked over John's shoulder with a slight frown, tugging his hand free roughly.  
'No.'   
'Jason? Concentrate on what John is trying to tell you!' Bruce chided softly, watching his son look off towards the doorway yet again. Jason ignored him and carried on staring at that one particular spot, his forehead creasing in confusion.  
'Who's that?'

Mirroring his son's confusion, Bruce looked across at the empty doorway. All he wanted to do was wrap the boy up in his arms and take him home with him.  
'Jay there's no-'  
'Who's there?' John asked, a small knowing smile tugging at his lips when the boy managed to tear his eyes away to look at him again.  
'The nun? Why'd you bring a nun with ya? Gonna exorcise me or summit? Bruce?'   
Jason turned to glare accusingly at his adopted father who looked on the brink off tears.  
'Kind looking lady, middle aged?' John asked, his smile growing when Jason swallowed thickly and nodded.  
'What she doin' here? She wasn't at the door with ya?'  
'Her name's Sister Anne-Marie. She's- a friend of mine.' John explained, a very somber expression drifting across his face. 'Don't worry. She was a good person.'  
'Was?' Jason picked up on the past tense and raised an eyebrow, he glanced over at Bruce again but all the man did was stare blankly at him.  
'Jason, look at me again.' John demanded gently, he took the boy's hand with a smile and gave it another squeeze. 'Jay, are you seeing things? Things no one else does?'  
Jason bristled at this and his eyes snapped back to the doorway again.  
'You see her too, John'   
'No. No I don't Jay. I don't possess you're erm, talent.'  
'Talent? Don't talk dumb.' Jason muttered, glaring down at John holding his hand. John's smile tinged with sadness and he too looked over towards the doorway.

'Jay, come off it. I saw you in Arkham yeah? I know you hallucinate, when you're not well, and you're not well right now, are you?'  
'No.' Jason replied although it was more like a sigh than a genuine vocalisation. His cheeks burning a deep pink in the shame of admitting that he'd failed again. John just increased his grip on his hand.  
'I know, mate, it's okay. I'm here because, because you don't have schizophrenia.'  
'I know that.'  
'What you hallucinate should be memories but it's not. You see other stuff too don't you? Things that the meds can't chase away?'  
There was a very long, very heavy silence. The only sound the sharp, rasping breaths of Jason trying to soothe himself.  
'I see them when I'm well. It gets worse when I'm not. Nothing makes them go away. The other stuff, the Joker and shit? The meds makes them go away but not, not the other stuff. The people I don't know. Valium helps but only cause then I just stop caring that they're there.'  
Jason mumbled, tears slowly making their way down his cheeks and he finally squeezed John's hand back.   
'You're the first person who seemed like they saw them too. That you could see the nun too.'  
'No, I can't see her Jay, but I feel her. I remember her everyday.' 

John honestly couldn't have thought of a better way to guide the conversation into this area, that Sister Anne-Marie would have helped him get Jason to acknowledge what he saw like that with such grace and poise. Carefully, he began explaining what he believed those hallucinations to be. Spirits of those departed. Jason closed his eyes but nodded along, apparently at least considering the idea even if he didn't seem to be overly accepting of it. It all seemed to go well until he mentioned Timothy.  
'You leave him alone!'  
'Do you see him Jason?'  
'No!' Jason snapped, opening tearful eyes that seemed to burn with fire and brimstone. They were skirting along dangerous ground now. 'Leave my brother alone!'  
Opening his palms in the hopes of looking harmless, John carried on smiling and cocked his head.  
'Do you hear him? When you're asleep perhaps? In the Nothing? I know about the Nothing Jason. That it exists. That you've been there. It's why you have this talent now. You came back and I believe you can help us bring Tim back too.'  
Jason's eyes widened as John spoke. It was as if the man had cut open his head and was poking and prodding at the brain matter inside, with Bruce the ever present observer. A deep seated anger burned in his gut. John wasn't lying yet the logical part of him demanded that he was. The other part? The part he barely acknowledged unless a psychosis hit? That part felt very much like Jesus might of when he found the market in the temple. How dare he talk of such things!

Standing up, Jason tipped over his own market stall. The coffee table. Sending John and the tea flying across the room with an almighty roar.  
'How dare you!' Jason bellowed, rising to his full height, fists clenched by his sides. 'How dare you speak of things you have no part of. Tim is dead. He is dead and dead he will stay. I want no part of his necromancy.' He spat, pointing viciously at Bruce who had risen to his feet as soon as Jason had kicked off.  
'Jay, son, it's not like last-'  
'I won't go back!'  
'No one is asking you to do that, Jason.' John cut in, the only one managing not to raise his voice. He despaired at the Batfamily he really did. 'I'm sorry that that happened to you. I am here to make sure that doesn't happen. I'm talking about the Nothing, Purgatory.'  
Jason paused, nostrils flaring in barely contained anger and he shook his head.  
'You don't understand what you're talking about, John. None of you do! No one understands!' Jason's fury and hurt seemed to verbally ricochet around the small, decrepit apartment. Bruce and John rendered to a stunned silence. The sound of the bathroom door slamming the only realisation either of them had that Jason had now left the room.

Bruce was hot on his tail. Sprinting over to the bathroom he rattled the locked door with wild, frantic eyes.  
'Jason! Jason open the door!'  
'Fuck you Bruce!'  
'Open this door right now or I'll break it down!'  
'Leave me the fuck alone!'  
Huffing a breath of frustration, Bruce backed up before giving the door a hefty kick. The hinges shuddered and the door almost gave way. Bruce backed up again only to be dragged back and slammed against the opposite wall.  
'Bruce, calm the bloody hell down!' John spat through gritted teeth, fighting to keep a grip on a man twice his weight. Shaking his head, Bruce strained against the hold both of them knew he could break anytime he liked.  
'Let go of me John, I don't want to hurt you.' Bruce ground out, attention completely focused on the suspiciously quiet bathroom. John increased his grip and shoved his friend hard against the wall again to prove his point.  
'Your son is in there distressed and wired sky high. You behaving like this is not helping.'  
'My son, is distressed and behind a locked door doing God knows what. I will demolish this entire city to get to him if I have to. For the last time, let me go John before I hurt you!' Bruce practically screamed into his friend's face. John faltered, blinking he saw the frenzy in Bruce's eyes. The sheer gut wrenching fear that Jason, his child, was hurting himself or worse. Locked away alone in the bathroom. Bruce wasn't looking to achieve his aim now. He was a desperate father trying to get to his hurting son.

The sound of rushing water caught both mens' attention and John let go of Bruce. Placing a firm hand against the man's chest, John moved to block Bruce's line of sight with the door.  
'Bruce, hold it. Feel that fear? Yeah? Jason is feeling that too okay? Kicking down doors is just going to frighten him more. Do you want to frighten your son Bruce?'  
John stepped away, watching warily as Bruce took a deep breath, before finally shaking his head.  
'Right. Now, let's get this door open.'   
Moving back over to the bathroom, John tapped on the battered door softly and listened for signs of life.   
'Jay? I'm coming in okay, mate?'  
Bending down, John started to forage in his pockets. Humming in satisfaction he withdrew a piece of wire and began jimmying the lock. It clicked open.  
Turning, John arched an eyebrow at his friend with a soft chuckle.  
'What? Just 'cause I know magic doesn't mean I don't know my basics.'  
Humming, Bruce stormed his way past and into the bathroom.  
A very empty bathroom.  
Entering behind him, John clocked the tissue blocking the plug of the sink, taps turned on full blast. A cold wind caught his cheek and he glanced up at the open window.  
'Well, bugger.'


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason's runaway and ends up on one of his few safe places.
> 
> Constantine discovers a very painful truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as one may have guessed, I've taken a lot of poetic license with this and tweaked things.
> 
> Finally managed to make this chapter make sense. Sorry for the long wait but does a long chapter make up for it??

Father Penemue was the watcher of his children. Chained forever in darkness and you could not get much darker than the priest of the Church of St. Jude in the Narrows of Gotham City. None of the few that came to his sermons would ever really know Paradise, none ever truly repented. Yet Father Penemue carried on in the hopes of saving the few he could. Warning those in his congregation of the perils of the written word. That the secrets held within it would not be a source of solace, but secrets bitter or sweet. A little boy once sought to challenge him on that particular teaching and had set forth to digest every scrap of knowledge he could reap from books and scriptures. Jason Todd.

Father Penemue had watched over him, as was his heavenly duty. He had watched the little boy who came to Mass with his mother. He had held her hand and absolved her sins as she lay, dying in her beloved son's arms. He had offered food and warmth to the homeless boy who wandered into his church. Confirmed him and welcomed him into God's faith. Had watched him turn down the road of vigilanteism. He had listened to the boy's confession and waved him off to a foreign land. He had buried that little boy in God's name and offered comfort to a grieving father. Jason Todd had proven his priest wrong for in the end, it had not been the written word that had driven him mad, but God himself.   
So Father Penemue watched over him as was his duty. He heard the boy's confession and washed the blood from the hands of a soldier who did not understand his true purpose. He opened his doors when the boy's mind became clouded by thoughts of God, death, Heaven, Hell and absolution. 

Father Penemue had thought that tonight was such a night when the boy came tumbling through the church doors, tears staining his cheeks, eyes wild and unfocused. He had walked gracefully and calmly over as the boy fell to his knees in front of the altar, lying almost prone in a prayer of harrowing sobs.  
'Jason?'   
Father Penemue spoke the name few remembered anymore. A name he would never speak of to anyone. A name lost to the darkness of Gotham.  
'Father!'   
The boy lifted desperate eyes to meet his and the old priest smiled warmly.  
'What troubles you, my child?'  
He expected the usual response, the desperate plea, the confused, jumbled up version of 'Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.' But tonight was different than any other night that had come before.  
'Father help me! He spoke of things, such terrible things. I try to say that it isn't true but it is Father, it is! Am I evil? Father, please!'

Father Penemue pursed his lips, the boy was unwell again. It was the only time he ever admitted to still holding his faith, yet he had not come here to confess as he would normally do. Either way the boy needed to be calmed before he could talk to him effectively.  
'Hush, be at peace now.'   
Slowly, he reached down and traced the cross on the boy's forehead. The most simplest form of blessing but it was enough, enough to let Jason know that God was here. He watched the boy close his eyes in a heady relief. It was simple, but enough for Jason to feel safe.  
'Thank you, Father.'  
Inclining his head, the priest held out his hand and motioned for Jason to follow him.  
'Come, I shall make us a cup of tea, Jason. Where would you like to sit?'  
'Cry Room.' Jason mumbled, eyes rising to gaze at the crucifix on the altar and Father Penemue sighed. 

Of course the boy wanted to sit in the Cry Room. The trick was going to be getting him to leave it. Ever since he had resurrected, Jason had been reluctant to enter the confession box. In all honesty, the priest could understand. Awaking inside your own coffin would traumatise the strongest man. So Father Penemue took the troubled boy to the Cry Room. There in the small, quiet room he would listen his confession and offer the option of quiet prayer. A peace inside a world that to the boy, must be loud and scary. Jason had taken the opportunity with both hands and now whenever he visited he'd insist to go there. Father Penemue chuckled softly and made his way over to the little room and unlocked it.  
'Do you promise to leave when it is time?'  
'Yes Father.' Jason replied solemnly, there was a truth in his words. He was not intending to lie but the priest knew that it would not be an easy task, and one he would require help with.

Father Penemue didn't have to wait long. He'd just finished making Jason his cup of tea and was trying to talk him back to the land of the sane, when the doors slammed again. Excusing himself, the priest shot a final glance at Jason, who had decided to pray. As well as his mind appearing out of sorts, the boy didn't look physically well either. Sighing heavily, he walked back out into the main part of the church to see who his second visitor of the night was. A smile tugged at his lips as one of the lost sheep of his flock knelt in front of the alter and paid his respects, rain water dripping off ginger hair that really needed a good cut.  
'Roy, what a pleasant surprise.' Father Penemue greeted, holding out his hand for Roy to kiss as he knew the boy preferred. 'How may I help you?'  
'Jason. I'm looking for him, Father. I thought he might be here?' Roy replied, lifting his head to look at the priest with tearful eyes overflowing with worry. Smiling warmly, Father Penemue inclined his head and motioned for Roy to follow him.  
'As usual you have come to the right place. Do not worry, he is quite safe. I left him in the midst of prayer and contemplation as you arrived.'  
'I'm sorry Father, I hope he has not caused too much trouble for you?'  
'Not at all. Jason's visits are always something I look forward to.'  
Roy raised his eyebrow and followed the priest into the little kitchen.  
'Um, okkie dokie then?'  
Father Penemue chuckled and handed Roy his coffee, like Jason, the boy's choice of beverage long memorised.

Jason barely registered the door opening. He was sat in one of the little pews, bent over a cup of tea. He was distressed but at least Father Penemue had succeeded in calming him.  
'Father?' Jason whined fearfully, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and Roy's heart broke for him. Clearing his throat, Roy closed the door and sat down next to Jason, setting his coffee down on a small table near by.  
'I'm not the priest, Jaybird.'  
Gasping, Jason's eyes shot open and he glared angrily at Roy but didn't move away.  
'Why you here? Go away!'  
Sighing, Roy leant back in the pew and folded his hands in his lap. He watched Jason try and swallow down a sob, his hands trembling around his cup of tea. That Roy could cope with, what he couldn't cope with, was the sweat beginning to bead across his friend's forehead.  
'What's happened to you Jaybird? You're a mess.'  
'J-just a relapse is all. I'm fine.' Jason mumbled. It was like looking into the past and Roy had to fight not turn tail and run away from it in fear.

'Bullshit. You're fucking- shit Jason, you're withdrawing!' Roy argued, worry and fear coiling up in his stomach in one big confusing knot. He had a good mind to find Artemis and Bizzaro and take them to the cleaners over this.   
'Have to be an addict to withdraw.' Jason grumbled, tightening his grip on the cup of tea in a bid to hide the tremor, as if such an elementary trick could ever fool Roy Harper. 'And you're in church. Don't swear.'  
Closing his eyes, Roy shook his head sadly, guilt now deciding to have a party with the fear and worry. He couldn't be mad at Artemis and Bizzaro, not really. Sure, they had lost track of Jason but he had known. He had known where Jason was and knew about the medication abuse, yet he hadn't done anything either. Too bitter about their relationship ending to do anymore than play the 'he's got to talk to me first' line. Bruce was right. He was a damn fool.  
'How many Benzos have you been taking Jaybird? Please, don't lie to me. I'll know if you lie to me.' Roy pleaded, his fingernails beginning to draw blood from where he was griping his own hands too tightly. 'Please?'  
Jason didn't reply. He just stared blankly into his cup of tea before throwing it against the glass screen, watching the cup smash into pieces. 

Roy watched the outburst in stunned shock. His Jaybird had been in a full blown psychosis before now and had never, ever dreamed of lashing out inside his church. His respect for Father Penemue and God himself too profound. This was the Benzos and he couldn't help but feel wholly responsible.  
'Jason!' He chided automatically, and Jason gasped and stared at the tea splattered window in horror.  
'Oh no. Oh no no no!' He shrieked, flying from his spot in the pew, he grabbed the box of tissues next to Roy's tea and began mopping up and collecting the broken remains of the cup. Sobbing desperately as he tried to clear up the mess, not noticing how the sharp china cut into his shaking hands. 'Oh no. Forgive me. I'm sorry. Oh no. What have I done!'  
'Hush, Jaybird, hush. Stop, you're hurting yourself. Stop.' Roy pleaded, moving to drop to his knees in front of Jason and the broken cup. Carefully, he slipped his steady hands in between Jason's, ignoring the slippery feeling of blood. 'Hush, it's okay Jaybird. Please, how many? I can't help you if you shut me out like this.'  
'Help me?' Jason parroted, desperate eyes lifting to meet Roy's, searching. 'He wants me to help him. Not help me. That's not what he said.'

It was tempting to tell Jason that he'd spoken with Constantine and Bruce too. It made even more sense as to why Jason was frightened and upset. When his adopted father had shown up, Jason must have thought that the man had finally come to help him.   
'I take enough. Enough to not notice them. To forget Tim, make the pain go away. Just make everything go away. John says they're real. Such blasphemous, evil things he said I could do. He said I saw the dead, that I can go to their realm. That I can bring Tim back. Help them not me. Damn me to Hell for I'm already in it.' Jason rambled, suddenly clutching hold of Roy's hands like a life line. 'It's all wrong. In my head it's all wrong and now real is wrong. I don't know who I am, I'm just floating. Into the nothing. I need to float above it all Roy. You don't understand.'  
Jason didn't fight when Roy hauled him into his arms, holding him tightly as if it were the only thing that could prevent him from floating away like he spoke of. Fat tears, rolled down his cheeks and Roy buried his face into the crook of Jason's neck and cried with him.  
'I understand Jaybird. I understand. I'm gonna help you okay? I'm here now. I'm so sorry.'  
Jason didn't need to say anything for Roy to know that he'd heard him. 

'Ah, I see we have had an accident. Are you okay Jason?' Father Penemue announced his presence softly, kneeling down with cleaning supplies in his hands.  
'Father?' Jason rasped, lifting his head to blink up at him tearfully. 'It wasn't an accident, Father. I threw it. I'm sorry, please don't be angry.'   
Trembling hands let go of his death grip on Roy and fumbled clumsily to try and take the dustpan and brush, but the priest rested a hand on his shoulder.  
'Calm child. It is but a broken cup. Now, come with me and we shall tend to those hands.'  
'B-but God?'   
Frowning, Father Penemue paused and looked out of the glass screen to the altar beyond pensively.  
'Did you intend to aim your tea at Our Lord Jason?'  
'No, of course not. I-'  
'Then there is nothing to forgive. Come.' Father Penemue instructed, tugging the sobbing boy up to his feet and leading him in the direction of his office.

Roy watched the pair leave before picking up the dustpan and brush and beginning to sweep up the cup. The repetitive action therapeutic, and Roy felt himself calm and his racing thoughts finally settled on a plan of action as to what to do. Finishing up, Roy tipped the bits into a wastepaper basket and reached for his phone.  
'Dick?'  
'Yeah?'   
There was the sound of gunfire and Roy wondered why Dick even had his phone on him if he was busy?  
'Arsenal, if you've rung for a chat I'm a little caught up right now.'  
There was more gunfire and a pained yelp. Roy winced.   
'Nightwing? You good?'  
There was a rattling cough and the sound of scuffling.  
'Yeah. Yeah, just got shot, I'm good. I really have to go Arsenal.'  
'It's Hood. He's not well. Really not well and Batman is being a moron. Can you get to Gotham? I could really do with a hand?' Roy asked, looking up to see Father Penemue finally succeeding in shepherding Jason into his office. He could only guess they'd had to make a detour to the altar to apologise for throwing tea at God.  
'Hood? I thought you and him-' There was more gunfire. 'I'll be at yours in a few hours.'  
The line cut out. Sighing, Roy pocketed his phone and ran a hand through his hair thoughtfully. All he had to do was get Jason home safely, keep him there, and lead Bruce and Constantine on a wild goose chase until Dick arrived. That would work, at least Bruce Wayne loved wild geese, oh wait, no that was Grey Goose, the vodka. Either way, Batman was probably going to be harder to fool.  
Taking hold of the carpet cleaning spray stuff, (Jaybird was the one who knew about cleaning products, Roy tended to just point and spray where he was told), and started scrubbing the tea stained carpet.

'Mr Wayne, I'm afraid all the wine in here is sacramental. If you wish to imbibe? I'm afraid you have to be absolved of sin and I doubt you have that much time, Sir.'  
Ears immediately pricking up, Roy poked his head above the wooden panelling to peer through the glass window. Father Penemue was stood smiling in a welcoming manner at Bruce, who looked wet and half mad with worry.   
'My son, Father, where is he? I know he comes here.' Bruce jumped straight to the point. 'He is a danger to himself and others and he needs to come into my custody.'  
Father Penemue frowned and took a step forwards.  
'Please, enlighten me as to which son it is you seek in my church? The one who doesn't want to talk to you and is out of the city, the dead one, the other dead one or the mouthy one with an Islamic background?'  
Bruce paused and opened his mouth to argue before finding himself stumped. His shoulders tensed in anger and he glowered down at the priest threateningly.  
'One way or another I am leaving here with my son. Even if I have to tear this place apart to find him!'  
The priest inclined his head and opened his palms as a symbol of peace, never once flinching at Bruce's attempt to intimidate him.   
'I have already said that I am willing to help you, Mr Wayne. But first, you must advise me as to which son it is you seek? The one not in the city? The dead one? The other dead one?' Pausing, Father Penemue arched an eyebrow and motioned towards the altar. 'Or the Muslim? I would advise against using force in a sacred place, Mr Wayne. I doubt even one as esteemed as yourself, could not make the bad press that would come from it, slip away.'

Roy stifled his laughter in his elbow, tears seeping from the corners of his eyes from the effort, man was this priest good.  
Bruce floundered for a moment, before turning back towards the doors and placing his hands on his hips.   
'A little help, John?'  
A figure moved from his spot in the shadows and John strolled in before taking a seat in a front pew casually.  
'To be fair, I don't think the dead one wants to talk to him either, Father?'  
'John!' Bruce snapped, and John just rolled his eyes and folded his arms in a huff.  
'What dya want me to do?' John shot back, before grumbling under his breath. 'Can't make angels do anything they don't want to do, they're picky like that.'  
'Angel?' Bruce parroted, glancing from John to the priest, who was now glaring darkly at John sat in the pew like he owned the place. Eyes widening, John looked up and gave Bruce a toothy grin.  
'Man of God. You can't make a Man of God do anything he doesn't want to do. Ain't that right, mate?'

'I am not your 'mate', Constantine. What are you doing in my church?' Father Penemue asked, his tone of voice just as dark as the glare he was giving him.  
'Helping a friend out? I'm a nice person like that.'  
'Oh really?'  
'Do you two know each other?' Bruce questioned, his brow furrowing in confusion at the not entirely friendly, familiar exchange. John chuckled and gave Bruce a wink.  
'Never met in person, but I know the name. Met some of his brothers.' John explained as if it was nothing. Bruce frowned.  
'I'll ask again, why you are here Constantine? Especially after what I have heard as to the nature of your business in Gotham.' Father Penemue pressed, and John blinked up at him innocently. 'Need I have to advise you that necromancy and the resurrection of the dead is abhorred by God? Constantine, I must implore that you desist and let the dead and unsound of mind find peace.'  
Leaning back in the pew, John chewed on the inside of his cheek and looked up at the ceiling in apparent thought.  
'Huh, and where could you have got that notion from old buddy, old pal? Also, why is Mr Harper playing peek-a-boo in the Cry Room? He's a little old for him to have to go in there, ain't he?'

Bruce's jaw hung slack and he looked over to see Roy Harper's head in the window.   
'Tt, while you were busy having a strop, some of us actually kept our wits about us.' John teased, looking back at Roy and giving him a wave. 'Fancy joining the party?'  
Swallowing thickly, Roy stepped out of the Cry Room with a false air of confidence and folded his arms.  
'Where is he Roy?' Bruce immediately demanded.  
'Who?' Roy retorted with a smirk. 'The good priest has already told you he is willing to help.'  
'Never knew you held a faith Roy? If my son isn't here, why are you?' Bruce asked, cocking an eyebrow at the infuriating boy.  
'Yeah, nah, I ain't overly religious, but I do love me some architecture. Just listen to the acoustics in this place!'  
'Stop it! Stop it, stop it!'

The trio froze and turned to see Jason leaning heavily against the office door, eyes wild as he gazed at them all before finally resting on Bruce.  
'Leave them alone. It's me you want. I've already angered God by throwing tea at him, please don't rile Him even more.'  
Blinking, Bruce nodded and out stretched his hand towards his troubled son.  
'Then come along, Jay. Before you anger God even more.'  
'No! Leave him alone!'   
Bursting between the pair, Roy glared at Bruce before cupping Jason's tear stained face in his hands.  
'Don't listen to him Jaybird. Bruce doesn't talk for God. He doesn't talk for God.'  
Swallowing, Jason looked from Roy to Bruce in growing confusion before his hazy gaze fell on the priest.   
'Father?'  
'Roy is right, Jason. Your father does not speak for mine.' Father Penemue assured him, before levelling Bruce with the same dark gaze he gave John. 'And to use His name to coerce you into doing his will is blasphemous.'

'John?' Bruce growled, looking over at the man who hadn't moved from his spot in the pew. John's brow furrowed and he cocked his head at Jason. He noted the sweat beading on his forehead, the tremor in his hands, the way the boy gasped shallow and rapid breaths.  
'I didn't agree to this Bruce. I agreed to help you. I did not agree to dragging an ill boy out of a Holy place by his hair.' Pausing, John shook his head and turned away. 'I'm sorry Jason. I did not intend to put this all upon you.'  
'John-'  
'He can't help Bruce. Not like this. Look at your son. Look at him for God's sake, man!' John spat, his face twisted in disgust.  
'Don't blaspheme!' Jason scolded, struggling out of Roy's hold, he stumbled over to John. 'It's as bad as throwing tea at Him.'  
Finally standing, John chuckled and nodded, patting Jason on the shoulder he caught his eye and winked at him.  
'I imagine so. Must admit, I never have thought to throw tea at Him. How has that faired for you?'  
'Not very well.' Jason admitted, looking back up at the altar with tearful eyes. 'I didn't mean to. It's wrong John, in my head, it's all wrong. I don't feel well.'   
Jason groaned and doubled over, clutching his stomach. He'd have fallen, if John and Father Penemue hadn't caught him and sat him down in the pews. Jason closed his eyes and huffed a heavy breath before lurching forwards and vomiting heartily down the priest's cassock.  
'Oh no! No, no! Father, I'm sorry.'

Hushing him, John reached into his pocket, he pressed a small, silver crucifix into the boy's hand.  
'Don't you worry about Father Penemue, lad. Here, take this. Don't let it out of your sight. Get better Jay, then come find me. Give me your answer then.'  
'Constantine is right, it is just a soiled cassock, easily washed.' Father Penemue reassured the boy, even if agreeing with John Constantine seemed to physically pain him. John smiled and looked up at Roy who had taken to hovering like a helicopter. They exchanged a knowing look.  
'How long will he need? You're the expert.'  
'Two weeks. It'll take two weeks for the acute stage of withdrawal to pass.' Roy replied, his voice weak and shaky, still not quite believing what he was faced with.   
'Jason? Oh Jason what have you done?' Bruce breathed, pushing his way past the others to press his hand against Jason's burning brow. 'How did I miss this? Oh what have you done boy?'  
'It's not his fault.' Roy defended, bristling at an all to familiar blame being put on his Jaybird. Heaving a few deep breaths, Jason swallowed and shook his head, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks again.  
'No. Don't want to go with Harper. Not together. Just leave me alone.' Jason rambled, tugging at his hair in a desperate bid to ground himself.

'Jaybird? Jaybird look at me!' Roy demanded, forcing down his own tempestuous emotions he gave him a vey authoritative look. 'You have three choices. You come home with me, go with Bruce or I take you to hospital. What do you want to do?'  
'H-hospital?'  
Nodding, Roy inclined his head and cocked an eyebrow.  
'You know the drill, Jaybird. Either you let me help you or I take you to hospital. Do you want to go to hospital?'  
'No.'  
'Then who are you going home with? Me or Bruce?'  
Swallowing thickly, Jason nodded and looked from Bruce to Roy. Without a word he held out his hand to his friend.  
'I don't feel well.'  
Taking the clammy hand in his own, Roy forced a bright smile and looked over at Bruce who seemed on the verge of tears himself.  
'Can you help me get him to the car? His co-ordination is only going to get worse.'  
Nodding, Bruce took a moment to compose himself before bending to help Roy haul Jason up onto his feet.   
'Come on, son. That's it. One foot in front of the other.'  
Father Penemue smiled as the trio past him and he rested his hand on Jason's head gently.  
'May God bless you.' He glanced across at Bruce and Roy and motioned towards the door. 'Go. Take care of him.'

John watched them leave before turning to Father Penemue thoughtfully.   
'Penemue... yes! I remember now. Watcher, Angel, Labbim. Sent to earth to watch over mankind, but instead taught them to read and write. Penemue, the curer of the stupidity of man.'   
Smirking, he cocked an eyebrow at the priest's dumbfounded expression.  
'Fancy seeing you here? I thought you were cast out and kept chained in darkness until Judgement Day?'  
Father Penemue sighed and turned away to gaze at the altar, but his expression betrayed nothing.  
'I am in Gotham.'  
'Gotham?'  
John frowned before his eyes widened in understanding and he nodded slowly.  
'Gotham. Right, chained in darkness, Gotham. I get it now, wow, and I thought Peckham was bad. God made you a priest in Gotham. Ha, ha, the Lord does move in mysterious ways.' 

Lifting his head, John shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat and gave the fallen angel a very probing glare.  
'But why are you watching over Jason Todd? Why him? What on earth does a mentally ill boy from the gutter of the inner city have of interest to you? I get the common ground, love of books, daddy issues, but that's not really enough reason for you to be watching him.'  
Father Penemue was very still for a moment, refusing to turn and look at John.  
'Jason is not just a boy. I have known of him since before his conception. I've watched over him all his life. Jason is not just a boy. He is the reason Father placed me here.'  
'Not much of a Watcher, you let him die!' John practically growled, but the angel didn't even bat an eyelid at his anger.  
'He had to pass on. Just like Catherine had to. It had to be done, sacrifices had to be made.' Father Penemue explained, the reason for his expulsion from God's grace clear when he finally turned and John saw the grief of sending a child to his death in Penemue's eyes.  
John just stared, a cold empty feeling pooling in his gut. This was something bigger, bigger than himself, bigger than the angels.

'So, it's true what Jason says? He was in Heaven?'  
The priest nodded and wiped at the tears in his eyes.  
'So, God wanted Jason to die? Wanted him to enter Heaven? But then, why expel him from it? What purpose does that serve other than torture the poor boy? You know the pain of knowing Paradise!'  
'Jason was not expelled, Constantine. That's just what he believes, what he needs to believe. '  
John shook his head at the priest's calm explanation. Completely and utterly baffled as to what was going on. The cold feeling grew as he ran Penemue's words through his head.   
'Tell me what is so important about Jason Todd?' John yelled, anger bubbling over and reaching boiling point. If there was one thing he hated it was bloody angels, fallen or otherwise.  
Father Penemue smirked and opened his palm towards him.  
'You already know. Why else give the boy a crucifix so heavily warded, even I almost burst into flames? Like you said yourself Constantine, you can't make an angel do something they do not wish to do, especially not one that stopped caring long ago.'  
John's gaze darkened even more and he swore he could feel the ground tremble with every step he took towards Father Penemue. He didn't take his hands out of his pockets, he just stood and stared the fallen angel down.  
'Jason is not just a boy to me either. I give you one warning Penemue and one only. So much as hurt Jason's feelings and I will come for you. I will come for you and I will make Hell seem like a summer holiday. Am I making myself quite clear?'

As expected, Father Penemue's eyes widened before the expression was quickly enveloped by the same righteous smile his brothers wore.  
'I am comforted to know Jason has you as a friend. You are right in your prediction that he can bring Tim back, but he is not dead. He was taken. Now, I have vomit drying on my cassock. God's speed Constantine, and sat hi to Gabriel for me.'  
Having said his piece, Father Penemue moved off towards his office before pausing by the door and looking at the first aid kit open on his desk forlornly. Yet again, Penemue succumbed to his love for human kind.   
'God forgive me.' He muttered, under his breath.  
Lifting his eyes, he studied the books that lined his walls and a tear rolled down his cheek.  
'You ask me what Jason's purpose is, Constantine? There is a great darkness coming, you know that. God sets us all our tasks, for some, theirs are more violent than others.'  
Glancing back at John's paling complexion, he smirked knowingly and inclined his head.  
'I trust you understand why the boy cannot know? Tread carefully Constantine and may God be with you.'  
John swallowed thickly, running fingers over the jagged scars on his wrists he ran. He ran out of the church and collapsed to his knees in the gutter. Letting the rain wash his own wrongness in his head away. Many walked by, but in Gotham, the broken were just as common on the sidewalk as the rats.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is a bit of a filler chapter but hopefully things should get moving now :)

Much to Roy's shock, Bruce was actually fairly helpful getting Jason back home. He helped mobilise Jason out of the car and into Roy's second bedroom. Jason actually listened when he immediately panicked and Bruce promised Roy wasn't going anywhere near him like that. That it was just a bed to sleep in. When his son became agitated again when Roy tried to strip him of his soiled clothes, Bruce had been the one who ducked the blows and told Jason that he would do it. This left Roy to call Jason's nurse, find some spare clothing and just generally collect his thoughts. If asked about Bruce's parenting skills, Roy typically would just roll his eyes and walk away, but he had to admit, when he put his mind to it, Bruce was damn good.  
Bruce recognised that Jason was holding back when the nurse arrived and excused himself into the living room, leaving Roy to take the reins instead. Roy had only met the woman a handful of times before, but Jason seemed to like her. Her name was Tracy or Stacy , Roy didn't quite catch it but she seemed pleased to see him and left him a list of instructions with a wink before leaving.

Walking out of the bedroom, Roy blinked in surprise at his living room, which had become spotless as if by magic. It had to be magic because fairies were far more probable than Bruce attempting to tidy up and matching Jason's high, obsessive standards perfectly. Shaking his head, he made his way to the kitchen to stick the instructions on the fridge and froze. Bruce was bent over making what looked like vegetable soup, shirt sleeves rolled up to elbow, looking totally at ease. Roy was pretty sure he didn't have the ingredients for vegetable soup and he wasn't sure if he was more confused that Bruce had somehow found some, or that the man even knew how to cook.  
'Alfred didn't just bring the boys up, Roy. I do know how to cook, now pick your jaw up off the floor' Lifting his head, Bruce offered a half smile and nodded towards the paper in Roy's hands. 'What's that?'

Swallowing, Roy looked down at it and shrugged before moving to stick it to the fridge.  
'The nurse gave me some instructions. Said with my experience he should be fine, but if he goes down hill to ring 911, not matter how much he shouts. She's kinda scary. In a scary mom way, can see why Jay likes her.'  
'Mhm.' Bruce hummed, turning off the heat, he strolled over and scrutinised the instructions on the fridge. 'Physical observations every four hours? Do you have the equipment for that?'  
'Yes Bruce.'  
'And you know how to use it? What an abnormal reading looks like?'  
'Yes Bruce.’  
'If you need money I can transfer you some? Never mind, it's alright, I'll transfer you some just in case. Would ten thousand-'  
'Bruce!' Holding up a hand, Roy shook his head with a warm smile. 'Thank you, for all your help. I got this, okay? Dick is coming up to give me a hand and is calling at the pharmacy and grocery store on the way for the things we need.'

Roy hoped he'd succeeded in reassuring Bruce, but he'd always struggled to communicate with the man. Not matter what he said, it always seemed to be taken the wrong way. Tonight was no different. Bruce blinked and looked hurt, before clearing his throat and rolling his shirt sleeves back down.  
'Of course. My apologies, I'm intruding. I should go, give Jason some space. He always says he's not a baby and can look after himself.' Bruce said with a very sad sounding chuckle, before motioning towards the saucepan. 'There should be more than enough for Dick, just make sure Jason eats some first. He'll be difficult, but persevere and he'll eat. Just, don't let Dick eat all the soup.'  
'Bruce, no, I didn't mean- you don't have to go, man.'  
'Yes, Roy, I do. I shall call in the morning to check in.'  
With that, Roy was left alone in his kitchen staring blankly at the soup wondering what on earth he had said wrong? He hadn't wanted Bruce to leave. Truth be told, he'd been quite enjoying the man's company.

Dick arrived an hour or so later and found Roy helping Jason finish off a bowl of soup. His brother was first to spot him and responded by rolling over and burying his head under the pillows with a groan.  
'Aw, hello to you too, Little Wing. Nice to know the sight of my beautiful face makes you hide.' Dick greeted, sighing with a fond smile at his brother's antics.  
'Not hiding. I'm trying to suffocate myself.' Jason's muffled voice replied, and as if to prove his point, Jason pressed down harder on the pillow covering his face.  
'Yeah, don't do that Little Wing. Dying causes far too much paperwork and I really can't be bothered with paperwork tonight.'  
'Harper can do it.'  
Raising an eyebrow, Roy placed down the half eaten soup and ran a hand threw his hair.  
'Heh, dream on Jaybird. I'm Dyslexic remember? I'd end up stabbing myself with the pen and then Dickiebird would have two lots of paperwork to do.'

'How about we all just step away from the suicidal ideation, because we all love Dick and don't want him to be sad?'  
Jason's head poked up from beneath his pillow and he frowned at Dick, who just grinned back.  
'Hmm, I dunno? Sad because I'm dead or sad because of the paperwork?'  
'The paperwork. Definitely the paperwork.' Dick shot back with a wink and Jason flipped him off. Pausing, Jason narrowed his eyes at Dick before clumsily hauling himself up and reaching out a shaky hand to him.  
'Y-You're bleeding! You're hurt Dickie! W-wait there, I'll go get the kit.' Jason instructed before starting a fight with the covers in a bid to get out of bed. Rolling his eyes, Dick ignored his brother's protests and pushed him back down again.  
'I'm fine Jay, let's look after you okay?'  
'Your shoulder is bleeding. It's seeping through your shirt. That's not fine!'  
'Woah, alright. Look, I'm going to get the kit and I'll make sure Dick is all stitched up.' Roy offered, but Dick shook his head and sighed in exasperation. Shirking off his shirt, he showed the clean dressing on his shoulder. Jason sat up again, and ran his fingers over it, making sure it was applied correctly. 

‘I got shot a few hours ago Little Wing. It's nothing I promise’  
‘But- but why come here?’ Jason asked in genuine confusion, intentionally missing off ‘Why come home for me?’  
Dick pursed his lips and reached out to wipe away the beads of sweat on Jason's forehead, taking in his exhausted and malnourished appearance, a tear rolled down his cheek.  
‘To help you Jason. You're not well. I came as soon as I heard because I promised I would, didn't I? Back in Arkham? I promised. You're my first little brother, my Little Wing.’ Pausing he sat down on the edge of the bed and folded his hands into his lap. ‘Why didn't you call me?’  
Shaking his head, Jason turned away into the pillow and closed his eyes and Dick swallowed down a knot of tears. This was signature symptom of his brother becoming unwell, this stubborn disbelief that anyone cared about him, that he was undeserving of someone caring about him. Dick always tried to catch it early on, before Jason shut the world out, but it was hard, when half of the time they weren't even in the same damn country. Sighing, he patted Jason's hand and stood up again, casting a glance at the half eaten soup.  
‘Okay, you win Jay. I'm going to get Roy here to rustle me up some of that soup, I'm starved. I’ll see you later okay, let you rest.’  
He didn't get a response so he just turned to Roy and motioned for him to follow him out. Watching his friend close the bedroom door behind him, Dick raised a quizzical eyebrow.  
‘Okay, start singing. What's Bruce done this time? Also, why is Constantine hovering about outside like a creepy stalker?’

It wasn't surprising that Dick was not only appalled that Bruce and Constantine had been bothering Jason, he also was completely disbelieving and disgusted about the theories around Tim, the nothing and his brother's hallucinations. Roy had spent two hours watching Dick pace and seethe and pace some more. Ranting in a steady stream about exploiting his vulnerable brother and filling his head with ludicrous ideas that only served to distress him more. Roy pretty much had to restrain a raging Dick on protective big brother mode, when the man spotted Constantine outside and stormed out with the full intention to beat his voodoo ass back to England. Thankfully, John had the sense to not try and defend himself but just made himself scarce, scarce or hide himself better it was either or.

Over the next few weeks, Jason got better, well, he wasn't withdrawing off benzos anymore, but he still wasn't himself. Quiet, withdrawn and if left to his own devices, would just sit all day and night staring off into space. Dick and Roy took it in turns to prompt him to eat, wash, sleep. He full out refused to take the rest of his meds without offering any reason as to why.  
Bruce was a regular visitor. Almost every day he showed up on the doorstep asking to see his son. At first Dick told him exactly where he could go but one day, he had gone out and Roy had taken pity on the desperate man who'd only just lost one son already. Jason refused to engage but he didn't seem to not want his adopted father there, so Roy had just shrugged and left them to it. When Dick arrived back, Bruce had succumbed to just sitting and reading to Jason from one of his many books. He did notice though, the warmth in Jason's eyes as Bruce read to him. It became a routine of sorts, Bruce reading a story of heroes and Jason, sat, listening silently.

Artemis and Bizzaro were also frequent visitors but they never stayed long. Jason wouldn't talk and Bizzaro just became upset and frustrated at not being able to help. He'd even given Jason Pup Pup, which Jason kept by his bedside table. Artemis had explained how she had tried to convince Bizarro to not come along and had even tried to sneak away, but he was adamant that he had to help Red Him, even if Red Him did not see him.  
Roy had frowned at this and watched Jason just sat staring off into space and thought that maybe, the clone had a point. It did seem as if Jason was looking at something, something only he could see.

The worst day had been when the nurse came. She, like every other friend and family member, tried to get Jason to engage in conversation, to just say hello, but was unsuccessful.  
Dick shook his head and started shouting when the nurse sat them both down in the kitchen with a concerned expression and the word ‘hospital’ left her lips. Dick was adamant that his brother was not going back to Arkham or any other hospital. Roy just pursed his lips and studied the grain of the wooden table. In his opinion, the nurse was being more than fair, if Jason didn't improve what option did they have left? He wasn't taking his medication, he barley ate, sleep was practically a fictional concept, something had to give somewhere. Eventually, Roy managed to persuade the nurse to leave before Dick’s temper got the better of him.  
‘I'm worried Roy. I can't - I can only turn a blind eye for so long.’ She said sadly, before walking away with a heavy sigh. Roy shut the door behind her and for the millionth time tried not to cry. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs that none of this was fair, none of it. But he couldn't, all of Jason's loved ones were hanging on by a thread and someone had to be the glue that stopped the entire situation from shattering into a million pieces, and somehow, that glue was him. If he let himself fall apart, Jason didn't stand a chance.

Padding over to the bedroom, he peeped inside to see Dick holding Jason's hands tightly, tears streaming down his face.  
‘Please Little Wing? I'm begging you please? Just, say something, please? Please, come back to me Little Wing? They- they're talking about hospital, please? I can't lose you again.’ Dick sobbed, burying his face into the crook of his brother's neck. ‘I love you.’  
Roy watched from his spot in the doorway, feeling like a voyeur. As if he was witnessing a Dick and Jason from the last time Jason had been hospitalised. A time neither had ever spoken about in any detail. Dick sobbed, clinging onto his brother tightly as if he were to be torn away from him that very second. A stark reminder that it wasn't only Jason who had been effected by that hell of a year when Bruce had been gone. Dick kept so much hidden behind his bright smiles and fancy flips, a true performer until the bitter end.

A single tear rolled down Jason's cheek and he tilted his head ever so slightly to rest on top of Dick’s. He didn't vocalise a reply, but his message was clear behind hazy teal eyes.  
‘I'm sorry Dickie.’


End file.
